


Personal History (and its Benefits)

by VioletTeaTime



Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Blood, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Injury, M/M, Nudity, Partnership, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Period-Typical Homophobia, i dont know if this could be canon or not, i guess its up to you, not a ton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23239798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletTeaTime/pseuds/VioletTeaTime
Summary: There's nothing in the world Owen loves to do more than kiss his partner's neck.-Owen takes care of Curt after a mission
Relationships: Owen Carvour/Agent Curt Mega
Comments: 18
Kudos: 161





	Personal History (and its Benefits)

**Author's Note:**

> yeah they gay, keep scrolling

Another job done, another shitty hotel room paid for by one of their agencies. Who the fuck knew who paid for this anymore? Certainly not Owen, he didn't give a shit about that. All that mattered was that Curt was safe, he was safe, and that shit got done. Who gives a fuck about the politics of it? The woman who had been working the front desk raised her eyebrows when the two men, Curt heeled over in pain, asked for a room with a single bed, but this was France, romance of all kinds seemed to swirl in the air. When they arrived at the room, Curt had all but fallen on the bed, exhausted and in pain from the knife wound on his thigh.

Curt may be the more dramatic of the two men, but he didn't really show his pain. Not to anyone but Owen. With long strides, Owen crossed the room to sit with his lover. He had bandaged the wound quickly while they had been on the mission, but the spotting on the dark fabric of Curt's slacks hinted that it was worse than the American would admit. Curt laid down flat on his back, staring up at the ugly popcorn ceiling above.

"How bad is it, love?" Owen made quick work of Curt's belt, trying to get at the slash to inspect it. He hissed as the cold air hit the bandaged mark, and Owen was glad Curt was looking away, as the amount of blood would no doubt send him into a frenzy. 

"I've had worse." Owen snorted.

"I know you have, I've fixed your stupid arse after too many missions." Owen's nimble fingers slowly removed the bandage, peeling away some of the drying blood with it. The cut wasn't deep, a slash from a lackey of a bombs dealer, but it continued bleeding. 

"Stay there for a moment, darling." Curt hummed in response, watching as Owen crossed the room. He opened the door of the mini fridge and pulled out the smallest bottle they had, and grabbed a handful of napkins. The bed dipped under his weight as he settled in next to his partner.

"This will hurt, dear. Let me know if it's too much." Owen slowly opened the bottle, trying to ignore Curt's eyes on it. He hadn't had a drop of alcohol in two months, and Owen wasn't going to let that streak end just because he got a little nick.

"I trust you." Owen poured some of the whiskey on the wad of napkins and pressed it down hard on the cut. Curt gasped, body jolting under his hands, and the thought of him inflicting pain on his partner made Owen's stomach churn. He continued to put pressure on the cut, and with the other hand, he held Curt's sweaty hand, letting the man squeeze it has hard as he needed to. 

" _Fuck_ , Owen." His voice was less than a hiss, just an exhalation of the words. 

"I know, love, I know." Owen cringed as Curt increased his grasp on his hand, but he didn't let it show. Curt so rarely let anyone take care of him, and it meant the world to Owen that the other let himself be on display for him. The two sat in silence for a few minutes, just listening to the breathing of the other. Moments like this reminded him that they were alive. 

Owen slowly pulled the soaked napkins off of the cut, satisfied that the wound had ceased bleeding. Curt pulled himself into a sitting position, and looked down at Owen with those big stupid eyes of him. Owen felt a pull in his chest that almost forced him to smother the man in love, but he knew what Curt needed right now. He stood up slowly, eyes never leaving the American.

"I'll start to run the bath, darling, if you could undress further?"

"What, you don't want to strip me yourself?" Curt was slowly pulling himself up, seeming to trust his arms more than his legs. He often complained that they felt like jelly after running on a job.

"Maybe tomorrow, dear, when I'm not concerned with opening a cut that's far too close to the femoral artery for comfort."

Owen left the room quickly, knowing full well that if he insisted on helping Curt to the bathroom, his partner would complain the entire time. Curt was a big baby sometimes, but he was Owen's big baby. Sometimes he felt as though he was underestimating the other American, the mythic spy, but Owen knew it was just that he saw through the facade that the job forced many people to create. 

The bathroom was small and obscenely white, so bright that it almost hurt Owen's eyes to look at. He met his own eyes in the mirror, and took a second to observe his disheveled hair and slightly ruddy looking face, his facial hair starting to get too long. He had seen better days. The bathtub was surprisingly big for such a small hotel room, and Owen adjusted the knob until he felt confident the water would be warm. Curt stumbled into the bathroom, and Owen turned to face him.

His hair was tussled about in the cutest way, and he was nude except for the boxers hanging low on his hips, exposing the soft pillow of pudge the man had developed over the last few years, probably from his excessive drinking. He held a flask to his side. Curt sighed, noticing how Owen had tensed when he noticed it.

"It's soap, Owe. I bet this hotel didn't have anything but a shitty bar, and I know how you feel about those." He held the flask out to Owen, who took it quickly. He unscrewed the lid and was filled with relief when a wave of Curt's scent washed over him from the small container. Curt sat down on the counter, and scrubbed at his cheeks.

"Do you think I could pull a mustache off?" Owen laughed at his partner, beginning to undo his pants. Curt turned back to him, an amused look on his face.

"Love, never grow any facial hair around me. You'd look far too..."

"Sexy, dashing, debonair?"

"Average, dear. You simply cannot hide that pretty face."

Curt slid off the counter, and crossed the small room to stand just in front of Owen. He began to unbutton Owen's shirt, and the European smiled, letting his head drop to settle on Curt's shoulder. He let the man slide the fabric off his body, landing in a pile on the floor. He separated from Curt when he felt hands peeling away his tank top, and he let the other pull it over his head. Curt gently ran his fingertips over newly blossoming bruises on Owen's chest, as well as the bullet scar he had acquired two missions ago on his right shoulder. 

"The bath, darling." Owen turned the taps off, and Curt hung off of him, wrapping his strong arms tightly around his waist. Owen leaned back into his touch, content to feel the man he loved here, breathing, with him. Curt hummed and dropped his boxers before stepping into the tub. Owen's breath hitched, and he looked away for a moment before allowing himself to look at his partner.

They had been together for far too long for Owen to feel as though his aversion to seeing another man nude was reasonable. Curt was always understanding of his fear, of his uncomfort with his sexuality. To a certain extent, Owen knew Curt felt the same way about being a homosexual, with the laws in America being as they were, but Owen's strict religious upbringing had gone far past what Curt had been exposed to. He had let them move slowly, never trying to push Owen to move faster in their relationship, especially at the beginning, but they had been partnered for most of their professional lives, which made Owen feel like a fool at times. They had made love, and seeing Curt in a non-sexual setting felt more daunting, more wrong. 

Owen sat on the side of the tub, and Curt leaned his head against his knee, no doubt sensing the internal battle Owen was having.

"You could shower tomorrow if you don't feel like getting in. I won't judge you for smelling bad." Curt's voice was playful, and Owen laughed, entangling his fingers in Curt's hair. Owen moved to reach the flask off the counter, and slowly poured the soap over Curt's damp hair. He felt the American melt under his touch as he washed his hair, and Owen tried to ignore the angry red and purple marks that seemed to cover his partner, a reminder of earlier today. 

Curt lazily washed his body while Owen made good use of his hands, and Owen could see the day seem to fade off of his partner, judging by the red tinted bathwater and the sleepy movements. Owen cupped water in his hands to wash the soap suds out of Curt's hair, and Curt closed his eyes, allowing Owen control. 

Owen helped the American out of the bath after a few minutes, wrapping a towel tightly around him until he stopped shivering in the bathroom's air. He kissed Owen's chin before walking out of the room. Owen watched him from the door frame, watching as Curt tutted around, grabbing clothes for the both of them, fumbling through their bags for toothbrushes and medications.

"I love you." Owen broke the comfortable silence, and watched as Curt broke into a smile, one of the smiles that is exclusively meant for him, for times like this.

"I love you." Curt crossed back to him, arms full. Owen kissed his forehead, taking the pyjama pants and tee shirt Curt had nabbed for him as his partner placed the rest of the items on the counter. He slid into the outfit quickly, and when he looked back in the mirror, Curt was dressed as well. The American leaned on his shoulder, warmth radiating from deep in his skin. Curt quietly passed him his pill case. He had never once asked what Owen took, and the European was thankful for being able to avoid the conversation about sleeping pills. Owen stepped behind Curt, putting his head on his shoulder, looking at the two of them in the mirror. Yeah, they looked like shit, but they were also a really fucking hot couple. Owen wished he could show Curt off like the trophy he was.

"I can smell you thinking, Carvour." 

"Then plug your nose, love." Curt shoved his toothbrush in his mouth, foam quickly appearing at the corners of his lips. The picture was so domestic that Owen could almost forget they were from different countries, in an illegal relationship, and were essentially glorified contract killers. Owen followed suit, feeling himself becoming more drowsy as Curt yawned in the mirror. 

They migrated to the bed, Owen's head resting over Curt's chest, listening to the slow and steady beating from beneath his rib cage. Curt's hand lazily ran over Owen's back, and Owen watched Curt get an evil look in his eye.

"You bastard, don't start-" Curt's fingers dipped into Owen's side, tickling him. He did his best not to laugh loudly, breathing rapidly, gasping for air. Curt giggled as Owen squirmed, burying his face in the pillows beside Curt. He stopped when Owen pushed his hands away, laughs slowly dissipating. 

"You are _evil_ , Curt Mega." Owen flipped to face him, smiling at the pink blush across Curt's face. He looked beautiful. Owen wanted to ruin him, just a little. He rose off of the bed to kiss Curt quickly before trailing down to his neck, just behind his right ear. Curt snorted, and tried to roll his head over, but Owen persisted, ghosting his lips over his partner's most sensitive spot. The other man shook under him, arms flailing at Owen.

"No! O-Owe- _Owen_!" He pushed away for a moment, looking down at Curt's flushed face.

"Truce, darling?"

"Fuck-fucking yes. I'm tired." Owen dropped his head down to Curt's chest again, pulling the duvet close around them.

"Sleep, dear. I'll be here when you wake up." Owen smiled as he felt a kiss pressed to the top of his head.

"I love you."

"I love you."

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! follow my tumblr, @violetteatime


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